


A Great Man, That Dumbledore

by New_Batmobile



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Gen, Humor, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29223819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/New_Batmobile/pseuds/New_Batmobile
Summary: Dumbledore is done hiding his power. When a group of aurors stun McGonagall (near the end of OotP), he snaps.
Kudos: 1





	A Great Man, That Dumbledore

**Author's Note:**

> Read many fanfics where an angsty Harry gets tired of having to wade through the Schnitzel that is his life and embraces the dark arts or snaps? This is that fic for Dumbledore.

"STUPEFY!" McGonagall's body fell to the ground. Umbridge looked on with a sickly sweet smile.

Dumbledore appeared out of thin air, allowing his disillusionment charm to fade. "ENERVATE!" he cast. McGonagall only stirred, the combined force of the stunners leaving her out for the count.

"Aurors, arrest that man!" Fudge called out fearfully, while attempting to subtly scurry away.

Dumbledore thought of a few of the warmhearted moments he had spent with his fellow transfiguration master, who now lay at his feet, dead to the world. Over the years he had grown quite close to the Scottish witch, even going so far as to stash his spare philosopher's stone at her ranch in the Highlands (without her knowledge, of course). He thought back to the hours they had spent scheming together after Halloween 1981. Hours that had turned into days, days into weeks. Those weeks had transformed their collegial friendship into a partnership, a conference of like minded intellectuals. They had concluded that Harry would inevitably have to sacrifice himself for the greater good, and so they had placed him with his horrid muggle relatives. She was his best friend, her strict Scottish brogue always cheering him up. Nobody messes with my friends, Dumbledore swore to himself.

He sensed four aurors circling him with wands drawn. Four wielders of battlemagic who had ignored his calls to join the war against Voldemort. Four aurors who had toed the ministry line and had now come to Hogwarts - his house - and attacked his friend.

"Dawlish, you poor, poor fool," Dumbledore murmured. The elder wand called out to him. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" The spell leapt forth followed by three silent killing curses that struck down the surprised aurors, their bodies falling like marionettes whose strings were cut.

Dumbledore breathed a long sigh. He hadn't cast the Killing Curse since his sister had died, but the dark magic invigorated him. He spared a sympathetic look towards Fudge, who had drawn his own wand.

"You never should have opposed me, my boy. This is a time of war, and war calls for drastic measures." He punctuated his final words with a killing curse that struck Fudge in the heart.

"Ah, Dolores," the headmaster reflected her sickly smile back at the toad-like witch. "You really thought you could fuck with the man who defeated Grindelwald? You thought you could take me on in my house?" his voice reached a roar.

He shielded himself from her Cruciatus curse by summoning Hagrid's large form. The half-giant had been watching the encounter with ill-hid shock, but his inherent magical resistance allowed him to quickly shrug off the torture curse.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" the words came so naturally to him, just as they had when he first invented the dark curse almost a century ago.

The dark wizard threw his head back and let out a roar of victory. "This is my house! MWAHAHAHA." His first evil laugh in decades left nothing to be desired.

He breathed in the fresh evening air, feeling as giddy as a schoolboy, and admired the towers of Hogwarts. The same towers where he had first learned the Killing Curse, followed some decades later by Tom Riddle. It was incredibly liberating to unshackle himself from the artificial yoke of being a "good person" with which he had suffocated himself ever since Ariana's death. His gaze fell upon the Astronomy tower, from which he saw an entire cohort of Hogwarts students staring at him. Just as he was about to cast a mass-obliviating spell, the awestruck students' applause reached him. Strangely enough, it was the Slytherins who seemed to be clapping the hardest. Albus took a bow, and allowed a few fireworks to escape Death's wand, which was now almost singing in joy.

The headmaster returned to the castle, levitating McGonagall's body. He was followed by a still-pale Hagrid, who was muttering under his breath. "Great man, that Dumbledore. Terrible, yes, but great."

~o~o~o~

Dumbledore sat silently through Professor Sprout’s almost hour-long tirade. Merlin help him. This was one staff meeting he could certainly do without. He was sick and tired of hearing these old arguments. Think of the children, Albus. You must be a role model, Albus. The killing curse is illegal, Albus. These were the same trying arguments that Aberforth had made so many years ago. He was done being manipulated. So it was an angsty, frustrated Dumbledore who rose from his chair, his magical aurora flaring. 

“ENOUGH! Professor Sprout, you will take a fully-paid year-long sabbatical to Beauxbatons. You clearly don’t have the heart for war, and your herbology skills are pretty much useless anyways. From now on, only those of you who have defeated Grindelwald or Voldemort get to lecture me.”

Sprout walked out in a huff, but Flitwick and Snape seemed to fall in line. Trelawney was too drunk to follow the conversation, and McGonagall was still convalescing. Hagrid merely nodded, but he did that whenever Dumbledore spoke.

“Good, I’m glad we’ve reached an agreement,” the old wizard continued. “Filius, you will serve as acting headmaster until McGonagall recovers. Snape, you are in charge of the castle’s defences and DADA until I return. And for Merlin’s sake, do teach some of the older students how to cast a proper killing curse so they aren’t all slaughtered upon contact with the enemy.”

Snape nodded solemnly, his life’s ambition coming true before his very eyes. “And where will you be, headmaster?”

“I shall be waging war. MWAHAHA!” Dumbledore stalked from the teacher’s lounge, allowing his angst to overcome him.

~o~o~o~  
A powerful wizard entered the ministry’s atrium. He walked purposefully towards the minister’s office, encountering Lucius Malfoy in the antechamber.

“Dumbledore!” the wealthy pureblood exclaimed, trying to inconspicuously shove the bag of galleons he carried for Fudge into his back pocket.

A twinkle in the headmaster’s eyes was the last thing the death eater ever saw. Dumbledore strode into the office of one deceased Cornelius Fudge, and took a seat in the comfortable leather chair behind the desk, letting out a deep sigh.

Suddenly Amelia Bones burst through the door followed by a team of aurors. “What are you doing here, Albus? Where’s Fudge?”

“Why Amelia, I am the minister of magic. This is my office!” Dumbledore exclaimed, a twinkle in his eye.

“You can’t just declare yourself minister of magic - that’s illegal,” Bones snarled.

“Now, now, Amelia. Is that really the tone you want to take with your boss?” Dumbledore displayed the Elder Wand threateningly.

Director Bones valued her life enough to avoid making an enemy out of the man in front of her, and thus the only official in the entire ministry with half a spine acquiesced to Dumbledore’s coup. 

“Very good,” Dumbledore twinkled. “You shall serve as acting minister until I return, Amelia. Direct the ministry’s resources to defending the major magical centers - Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade.”

“Where are you going, Minister?”

“To do something I should have done a long time ago.”

Before leaving the ministry, Dumbledore penned a quick note to Madam Longbottom.

My dear Augusta,

I must insist that you serve as acting head of the Wizengamot and ICC while I go to wage war against an old pupil of mine, Lord Voldemort.

Yours truly,  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore  
Minister of Magic  
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot  
Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards  
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft  
Seven-time Winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award  
Order of Merlin, First Class

Pleased with his lengthy signature, Dumbledore owled his note off and apparated to the Malfoy manor.

The minister of magic confidently strode through the ancient abode, dispatching of death eaters who were too slow to portkey away. He met Voldemort in the ballroom. The duel between the two was too short for Dumbledore’s liking, but then, there could only be one Grindelwald. Having disarmed the lad, Dumbledore gave his form pupil one final lecture.

“Tommy boy. You should have known better. You can be evil, or you can be weak. But you can’t be both.” Feeling satisfied with his soliloquy, Dumbledore struck down the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore left Malfoy manor in a light mood. His responsibilities were all taken care of. Filius was running Hogwarts, Amelia was managing the ministry, and Augustus was keeping the Wizengamot and ICC in check. He didn’t feel the need to reclaim any of these positions anytime soon.

The old man absent-mindedly popped an elixir-of-life-infused lemon drop and allowed himself a minute free of contrition to celebrate his victory.

He then ruminated on the lives he had stolen in the past twenty four hours. Almost a dozen. The war certainly could have had a higher body count. But rumination always led him to the same memory. And so it was on a cool June evening that the leader of the magical world found himself weeping in front of the grave of his little sister, the first victim of his killing curse. And for once, Death’s wand was silent.


End file.
